


Bring It On

by selkieskin



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Acceptance, Ambiguous Relationships, Bigender, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Non-binary character, Supportive Friendship, Talking, transgender character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8144285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selkieskin/pseuds/selkieskin
Summary: It's a day off and Harry and Louis are at home. Harry wakes up, and the dream he had – where he was himself, but a woman – is doing weird things to his emotions. Louis comes downstairs, and accidentally sets off a reaction that leads to him finding out Harry's big secret...





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have used he/him pronouns in this story. The reason is that this version of Harry currently identifies as male, he is just questioning his gender and what it means to him. Pronouns are often a tricky thing to pin down for us non-binary people anyway – sometimes it varies from day-to-day, sometimes none really fit at all, sometimes you pick one for convenience... I hope this doesn't affect the reading of the story.

Harry had woken up feeling terrible. Ill, and wrong, and out-of-place... He knew he shouldn't have slept in. It might be their day off but sleeping in always meant he had some sort of vivid dream. And today's dream was that one he always dreaded, the one he got at least a couple of times a year. He buried himself for the moment deeper into the covers, feeling like he was about to cry. It was back again.

He let himself lie there and wallow in misery for another few seconds before he mentally shook himself. _This doesn't help, stop it, forget about it._ He needed to get up. He needed to do something to stop obsessing over this, it was stupid, he'd never be able to push it out of his mind in his bed, where the comparison between dream and waking was so obvious. He sat up, looking at the tight t-shirt he'd planned to wear today, and knowing that he just didn't want to. Instead he rooted through his closet to find the biggest, baggiest hoodie he had and dragged himself (feet felt so big today, just felt so clumsy) down to their couch. Right. TV. That was an easy distraction.

He knew what he had to do, try and watch something neutral, like The Aristocats, to try and forget about it. His hand hovered over the DVD case for it, nearly taking it, but he knew his heart wasn't in it. He was weak. The next thing he knew he was taking Bring It On out of its DVD case and putting it in the DVD player. Weak, stupid. He didn't care right now.

He lost himself in the movie, at all those bright, beautiful people dancing around on screen, looking so perfect, to the point where he didn't even hear Louis come down the stairs. It was just bad luck that Louis decided to go for the 'surprise-attack-hello' that morning.

“Watching cheerleaders so early, Haz!” he exclaimed, as he jumped on Harry and reached two hands over to squeeze his boobs. Or not-boobs. _Get off me, get off me, please god not there_ repeated Harry's mind in a panic, as he automatically tensed up and hit his friend's hands away.

There was a shocked silence. They both froze.

Harry could almost see in his head the way Louis' face snapped from cheeky smile to shock and worry in an instant. The stupid thing was, Harry knew how that should have gone, how he should have laughed it off and gently moved his hands away, but it was early, he was miserable and it was taking his mind far too long to catch up today. The silence after his reaction had gone on too long already, he knew. He heard Louis gulp as he quickly checked to see if he'd miraculously hit upon a sad bit in 'Bring It On', but no, it was nowhere near. Torrence the head cheerleader was watching the Clovers perform a familiar dance. Not good for the character, but certainly not sad. Louis knew that, they'd watched it together before. It certainly wasn't tragic enough to explain away tears, for goodness' sake.

“Hey,” said Louis softly, concerned. “Hey, what's wrong? You alright?”

Harry needed to say _yes, I'm fine, forget it_ but it wouldn't come. What came instead, to his horror, were tears. And he didn't even have anything to hide his face with. He swore under his breath and quickly wiped his face, opening his eyes as wide as he could to stare at the TV screen, to desperately focus on that. Obviously, Louis saw. And that terrified him, because he knew he couldn't lie to the boy. He pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them, still staring up at the TV past his unwashed fringe. He felt the couch dip next to him and a hand tentatively rub his back. He couldn't quite stop himself flinching at the contact, despite the fact that Louis hadn't really done anything to deserve it – it was just the way he felt right now. Anything and everything set it off. He heard Louis' breath hitch with hurt as he noted Harry's reaction. It was a really bad day.

There was silence for a while, as Louis tried his best to comfort him.

“Is there... is there something I did, Harry?” he asked, voice tense with worry.

 _Nothing,_ Harry needed to say, but it stuck in his throat and he shook his head instead. “It's not, erm...” he whispered hoarsely, but stopped there, not sure how to continue that sentence.

Louis just pulled him into a tight hug, which was the sweetest thing he could do, but the worst thing as well because it crumbled all of Harry's self-control completely. Harry broke in his arms. He cried and clutched at the other boy, feeling his body so wrong against someone else's, crying for the life he'd never have and never wanted most of the time anyway, crying for the fear that one day he'd tell Louis what was wrong and his best friend would never look at him the same way again, cried so hard he felt like his head would explode.

He distantly heard Louis saying “Jesus, what is it Haz?” and “It's OK, it's alright, I'm here, shh, it's OK, I'm here”, but he couldn't respond. He was pathetically grateful for the strong arms around him, and the bony hand that stroked through his hair.

It took a few minutes for him to calm down, and although Harry could tell Louis wanted answers, Louis didn't push for them right then.

They ended up watching the rest of the movie in silence. They held onto each other for comfort, but neither could fully relax against each other. Both thrummed with tension, and neither dared get comfortable.

Once the very last of the end credits had rolled, Louis disentangled himself and sat up. Not looking at Harry, he deliberately reached over and turned the TV off. He sat back on the sofa, and slowly turned to face Harry.

“What's going on?” he asked.

Harry's mouth went dry. 

“Haz?” Louis prompted.

Harry looked at the floor, schooling his features.

“Nothing. Weird dream.”

“What was it about?”

“Nothing serious, it's... it's nothing. Really.”

Louis reached for Harry to reassure him, but Harry subtly shrank away. Louis drew in his breath. This was something serious.

“See, there _is_ something! Tell me!”

“It won't help!”

Louis' breath caught in his throat. He pushed aside his defences and shuffled closer. He didn't look up at Harry, but his voice was passionate and controlled.

“Look Harry, if you really don't want to talk about it right now, just... just say so and I'll drop it. I'll be here if you ever want me, but I'll drop it.” He glanced up at Harry and caught his eye, holding his friend's gaze. “...I think you do really want to tell me, though. Haz, I'll listen whatever it is. You know I'd think the world of you whatever it was. Literally whatever it was. I mean, you don't strike me as the axe-murderer type, but... hey, I could be wrong.”

The weak joke brought forth an equally weak smile from Harry. Louis smiled back briefly, and then waited as Harry's face fell and they lapsed into silence again. They were both silent for a long, long time.

When Harry finally did speak, it felt like a shock to the system. Harry did want to tell him. He felt like he'd painted himself completely into a corner, and it was his own fault. He hadn't done the right things to cover himself this time. He bit his lip. How could he say this and have it not sound ridiculous? He was so scared.

“I just really want boobs.”

Louis let out a bark of laughter, taking that as a joke, but his grin slowly faded as he saw the expression on Harry's face.

“Shit, you're serious,” he realised.

Harry was silent for a few seconds, and then nodded solemnly.

“Shit,” Louis said again, and Harry silently agreed. Louis looked him up and down, trying to digest this new information. He saw Harry's hand fisted in his pyjama trousers, knuckles white, and that jolted him into action.

“That's... that's... It's OK, thanks for telling me, but just... give me a second.”

“Louis?” Harry said, sounding vulnerable.

“Haz, I do still think the world of you. This still doesn't change that, you know? I'm just secretly glad you're not an axe-murderer after all that.” Louis knew his voice didn't sound at all right for jokes, and it was creeping up into slightly hysterical tones. He compensated by reaching for one of Harry's hands and disentangling it from the clothing, manipulating it gently so he could slide his hand into Harry's and give it a reassuring squeeze.

“...Are you... unhappy with how you are now, then?”

Harry shook his head, and spoke again.

“That's the thing, I'm really not. I don't get the dysphoria _properly_ – that's what it's called, by the way, when your body really feels wrong – I don't get that so much in the same way people who are really women do, so I'm not really a woman. It's only every now and then it gets bad, like this.” He gave a slight huff to himself as if he himself couldn't believe he was discussing it out loud. “But, sometimes... sometimes I wonder if I'd just be happier being one anyway?” His face tightened. “And... and that scares me because what does that mean? Am I supposed to try it? If I tried it, would I miss the way I am now or would it solve all my problems and make me happy? What if every day I stay like this I'm missing out on my chance to be something... different?”

Louis didn't really know what to say about that. What could he say to that?

“And. Er. So what do you think right now?” he settled for, lamely.

Harry blinked.

“Well, I had this dream, yeah. Where I was like that. Like, me, but different, I mean, female, a girl. And then I... woke up-”

He broke down again, burying his face in his hands, hair hanging down, and Louis rubbed his back for the minute or so it took to get Harry breathing properly again. Louis didn't really know what to suggest, he felt so at sea with all of this. What should he say?

“I hate this,” said Harry, before Louis could think of any response. “I try not to let myself think about it, but then sometimes I just wake up _wrong_ and it leaves me messed up for... well, days, sometimes.”

“Is there anything that helps when you feel like that, Haz?” Louis still didn't know what to say, so he decided he'd ask instead.

“Um... sometimes, I've got like... fake boobs? Sometimes I wear those, like, in my bedroom, and it, weirdly, it... helps a bit?”

“You've got things like that, love?”

“Yeah, I got them... years ago. I said to my friends that it was a joke, and y'know, it sort of was, but... now they're something that I wear when I'm feeling like this, and I don't think I'd be able to wear them as a joke any more. There's too much baggage behind me wearing them now, too many times... and they just feel a bit like a part of me. Like, I know they're not flesh and blood or anything, but they're _my boobs,_ you know.” He looked at Louis, frowning, suddenly struck by the weirdness of the conversation and looking for how Louis was taking it. “I'm sorry, I'm oversharing, aren't I? This is just really weird, tell me if you need me to stop.”

“It's not weird, it's fine, Haz, it's _you,_ don't feel like you need to stop for me.” In reality, Louis' head was whirring, he had so many questions. “But how come I've never seen them?”

“I've hidden them for years, Lou,” Harry replied. “I'd never... I never even planned to tell you about them, let alone let you see them. That would feel a bit... weird, anyway. Like, you've seen me naked and stuff, but you've not seen me naked, um... like that.”

Louis pulled Harry back towards him, cradling him in his arms, feeling like he needed a hug himself. He channelled all of his feelings into that embrace, anyway. He held tightly until he sensed Harry had had enough, then loosened his arms and rubbed his back instead, trying to process it all.

“It's not a fetish thing, is it?”

“No! No...” Harry winced. “I don't think so. No, no it's not.”

“Well, you know, this is your house too.” Louis gave Harry a quick squeeze. “So, you... you wear whatever makes you happy, fake boobs and everything. I want you to feel comfortable, yeah?”

“You serious?”

“Yep.” How could Louis say anything else?

“You really serious?”

“Yes, I am serious.”

“Oh.”

Harry's grip loosened slightly as some of the tension leached out of him. Louis ruffled his hair a bit.

“You... you want to go and put them on now?” Louis' heart was beating out of his chest. This was still all new to him, so he wasn't sure really how he'd react actually... seeing that. Harry thought about it, and to Louis' secret relief shook his head and snuggled further into his side.

“Not right now. 'M too comfy.”

Louis reached a hand up, and started to play with Harry's curly hair, twisting it round his fingers and pulling it out again and again. They sat in an intimate silence for a while, before Harry gulped and squeezed Louis again.

“Thank you,” he croaked.

Louis turned his head so he was speaking into Harry's curls. “Anytime, man. Lady, whatever, sorry. Erm. Any time.”

“No, but seriously, thank you Louis. For not freaking out. I felt for sure you'd freak out. I was really scared.”

“Who says I'm not freaking out, Haz?” Louis' voice was quiet, nearly a whisper. His hand stilled on the back of Harry's head, then he tangled his fingers in his hair again, just gently, to say _I'm here._ “You're freaking out. I'm freaking out. I don't know what to say, how to make this better, or even if I've said things that are stupid to fuck this up. But you know I love you loads and accept you just the way you are, however it is that you are, right? I'll always think you're amazing Hazza, right?”

Harry nodded, and Louis drew him back so they could look at each other in the face, Louis' hands on either side of Harry's face, making Harry look at him, and Harry's hands on top of his.

“Right?” Louis searched his face, eyes roving back and forth, looking for the reaction.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, the ghost of a smile back on his face.

“Tea?” Louis asked, smiling back.

“Love some.”


End file.
